


I find I’m lost without you

by meremennen



Series: Just another day on the ground [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Canon Speculation, F/M, Future Fic, Post-Season/Series 04, Reunions, but I'm not an angst person so it's not that much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meremennen/pseuds/meremennen
Summary: Future fic.Probably canon divergent. And since I wrote this way before SDCC2017, this ignores any of the spoilers. Or, it depends.Post Season 4. Bellamy and Clarke meet again. Eventually.





	1. Day 95

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 95 (Bellamy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think - do you think she felt … something when the death-wave hit?” 
> 
> Harper is laying some plates on their makeshift dinner table, Murphy is finishing the algae risotto - third time this week, maybe fourth. And he has to give it to him - he’s become a pretty decent cook, even if they all had enough algae for a lifetime.

Bellamy has just returned from his solo routine walk through the dimly lit corridors of the New Ark when Monty brings it up.

“Do you think - do you think she felt … _something_ when the death-wave hit?” 

Harper is laying some plates on their makeshift dinner table, Murphy is finishing the algae risotto - third time this week, maybe fourth. And he has to give it to him - he’s become a pretty decent cook, even if they all had enough algae for a lifetime.

Truth is, they haven’t talked about this – about _that day_ when they left Clarke behind. Months have passed, but they couldn’t bring it up.

Bellamy clears his throat, then swallows, before taking those final two steps, stopping in the middle of the room.

“Murphy,” he nods, “you’re gonna burn our dinner if you don’t pay attention.” No, he’s not ready to talk about her just yet.


	2. Day 2,209

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2,209 (Clarke)

She’s been dreaming of this moment for so long.

It’s been ten days since she’s seen the _Gagarin_ appear on the horizon.

It’s been almost just as long she’s been following those people setting a foot on the ground. They landed not so far away from home, from where she first spotted them.

For a few days, they kept close to their spaceship, venturing out only on short trips into the green, returning with flasks of water but never food. For days, she’s been following them like a ghost, always hidden behind the trees and in the cover of the shadows.

It’s been a week later when she spotted the male, alone, separated from the group.

It’s been two days since she, maybe recklessly so, started following the loner on her own.

There is still no sign of her friends, which worries her, but…. one step at a time.

These strangers might know something.

It’s been years, since she’s last seen them, and frankly, it feels like everything that had happened before had been merely a dream. But then, some nights she clearly remembers the rush or that they were both wearing a helmet, soaking in sweat under the thick layers of the hazmat suit. Too much in a hurry to save a friend and too reluctant to say goodbye.

At the time, she thought that last hurried moment together was definitely goodbye - she was so certain she was going to die.

 

Her legs are burning with the exhaustion, her pants are getting short and too quick to keep this up but the prospect of knowing _something_ is fuel enough and she runs faster. As she runs her mind wanders to the countless nights she fell asleep on the hood of the rover - under the sky, willing herself to believe they’d all made it. 

At first, there was nothing to see there but fire and smoke and a relentless charge in the air.

 _For weeks_ , she was staring into that nothingness until the fires, then the dust and smoke that followed had slowly settled down. It was months later when she was able to see the stars again.

 

After what feels to be an hour has passed she comes to a stop at the edge of a clearing. The male is still there, looking at the other direction, his rifle aimed at the desert rat sniffing around a boulder. Under different circumstances, she would think about ways to catch it for its fur and meat but it’s not the right time; even if fresh meat like that is still hard to come by.

The male is clad in black, positioning his rifle against his shoulders, the sun is partially blinding his sight. He is distracted enough by the promise of this spoil and that’s her cue to take him by surprise. 

The rat sniffs in the air and runs away.

A curse.

She blinks. It can’t be -

But then he turns to the side and she has to blink to get some moisture in her eyes.

_Is that - really him?_

Her eyes might be tricking her now, after all the sun is blazing high up on the sky, but - he looks … well, he looks _like him._ He is different, sure, it’s been two thousand two hundred and nine days. She can see how he’s aged, more mature and defined in his features but he wears the same hard line to his mouth and the same hard look in his eyes. He has the same shade of curly, dark hair, if somewhat too long, now falling into his eyes.

_Six years._

She exhales. He tilts his head.

All in all, he is essentially the same.

_You cannot trick your heart, silly girl._

Because her heart beats a little faster for having him so close physically after all those years.

No. It’s not a dream.

 

She’s not always been this optimistic.

The ground had been rather hard on her after the death wave had hit. And yet, against all the odds, a part of her has never given up.

Not even when digging her way through the ash, or when she was starving for days and the insects she found tasted bitter but after a few weeks felt just as good as Murphy’s risotto.

Not even when the thought of losing her loved ones had found her on the brink of tears those early days. Somehow, she had to believe this moment would come and she pulled through. She had to believe that she will see Bellamy again.

It was a good idea to leave Madi at the rover, she thinks. It was mainly for safety reasons, she reasons, but Madi would most certainly not let her live this down. She was thinking of Bellamy way too much. The evidence of that is forever etched into the pages of her notebook. Madi has asked about the drawings and she talked about him - as a good _friend_. But well - Madi _is_ young _and_ also a smart kid.

 

Her breath hitches.

Bellamy is definitely there, with the rifle hanging low on his shoulders.

 _This image_ \- she remembers so well - puts a small smile on her face and that hope she’s been clinging to for years finally transforms into joy. It is really him, within arms reach - it’s Bellamy.

Will he remember her, though?

She shakes the thought away and pushes forward, through the bushes and doesn’t stop. She cannot stop now when he is so close.

She lets her breathing calm down a bit before stepping forward and into the light.

Bellamy stops to a halt, raising his rifle at the sound, confusion settling over his features.

She takes a careful step forward and so does he, lips parting, eyes searching and disbelieving until they are only few feet away.

He is wearing a stubble now, which is a new look to him but the same splatter of freckles are gracing his skin and she can’t help but draw in a quick breath when she spots that one stubborn freckle in the corner of his mouth. Because it is really there and not just an image summoned by her dreams.

It’s such a silly thing. And yet, that tiny beauty mark against his ever golden skin has been haunting her in her dreams most nights. In fact, it was one of the first things Madi noticed on her drawings (and kept her asking for more).

Her heart stutters, she nods at the silent question in his eyes.

He lets the rifle down and she releases a long breath, hearing him do the same and letting a half smile stretch along her face.

He takes a step forward and so does she.

When he finally finds his voice it is more like a huff, a mixture of vary and relief. 

“ _Princess?_ ”

It’s like feeling the sunlight for the first time on her skin all over again.

^^^^

* * *

 _Haven’t had a dream in a long time,_  
_Haven’t been able to sleep_  
 _I find I’m lost without you,_  
 _It’s still something I belong to_  
 _Are you coming back?_  
 _Are you coming back?_  
 _I’m waiting_  
 _I’m waiting_


	3. Day 124

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 124 (Bellamy)

It's not until a month later when Harper brings up the idea of a funeral.

"Bellamy, she deserves this," she said. He was so taken aback by the tone in her voice that he couldn't do anything but nod.

It is a good idea, and regardless how painful it is, they should have done that sooner.

Harper's in charge of decorations. She also enlists Echo to help. Murphy takes care of dinner _after_ \- he's their cook most days anyways.

 

To say Bellamy's restless when the day comes is a mild way to put it.

He shaves off the scruff that morning. There is this jittery feeling running in endless circles in his body coupled with an urge to do something more, _anything_. Maybe that’s his way of staying sane.

He knows he should be there with the others and help them with the preparations. Or just be there _with them, for them,_ providing mental support or something but — another round down the corridors and checking on life support and the algae farm first sounds like a smart idea.

He cannot avoid them — it, _her_ — forever, though.

 

Two hours later, they are all gathered in the appointed mass hall, the one space with the biggest window, looking down at Earth.

The Earth used to be his hopes and dreams for a better life, a promise, not so long ago and now ... It looks nothing like the Earth he had known as a boy.

No, nothing like the electric blue of hope. Anything but blue.

It is better this way anyways.

Raven comes to stand to his left. Harper and Monty join him at the right. Emori and Murphy have just finished arranging the plates on the table. Echo is somewhere in the back, standing against the back wall, crossing her arms. She is stoic as ever, nonetheless, she is here for them.

They'd found clothes scattered around in some of the rooms a few weeks ago, and everyone is wearing a new ... well, relatively new piece of clothing tonight.

The dark blue henley, right about his size, is still lying on the bottom of his tiny garderobe, exactly where he'd thrown it. Out of sight. It was nice of Harper to offer it but he just couldn't make himself to actually wear it. It reminds him of too many painful memories he is not ready to face.

He's not even sure he ever will.

The colour of it, even if it is not the same shade of blue, reminds him of feelings — _his feelings_ for her — the feelings he's trying to push away.

_Good luck with that._

 

Raven shifts from her bad leg to the good one, a nervous habit as he got to learn it, and clears her throat.

As much as it felt like second nature to him to talk to the crowd a year ago, now he doesn't want it.

He looks at Raven and then down at the globe. For distraction? Maybe. He cannot tell, really.

The Earth is nothing like blue.

_Nothing like the blues of her eyes_ , he cannot help but silently add as an afterthought. _Not even close._

It’s a blessing and a curse.

The once sizzling red is tamer, almost grey, like the sky before a storm, and only visible in patches now. Maybe Earth never even will be blue again.

He takes a deep breath. In and out.

Maybe he doesn't find peace ever again but his friends, _his family_ , deserve a better life.

And with that, he takes a big breath and his voice finally finds him again.

**********************************************************************************

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that Bellamy cannot wear anything blue because it reminds him of her eyes.
> 
> I hope you liked it, a little bit. <3


End file.
